


The Toymaker's Quill

by 04aKittyKat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (Child Protection Services), (She's part of a special department that secretly works with Aurors), Harry's kids have all graduated from Hogwarts, Hermione works for CPS, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:27:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23615209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/04aKittyKat/pseuds/04aKittyKat
Summary: Drake Tiberius Wood is your average student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.Or is he?





	1. Prologue

In the city of Duffletown, Scotland, there lived a family that consisted of a Mother, a Father, and their nearly three-year-old daughter. They were a very normal family, and none of their neighbors knew that this very normal family had moved from the United States to Scotland to get away from the Wife’s cousin, who the very normal family considered to be very odd and not normal.

Because of this, the very normal wife, in this very normal family, had no idea that her cousin had gotten married. Nor did the wife of this very normal family know that her cousin had had a child, who was also one year old. She did not know that her cousin and his wife had just died in a horrendous car crash, leaving their only child as an orphan.

However, this very normal family, that lived in the very good and normal city of Duffletown, Scotland, was going to soon find all of this out, and many more things than they ever wanted to know, about the wife’s cousin, and his own wife, and their child.

~<&>~

Frank Clarkson was a rather bulky man with blond hair and a thick, bushy mustache. Most would argue that he could stand to lose a few pounds. However, Frank Clarkson was not one of those people, and therefore remained just slightly too big to ever sit in any chair comfortably.

His gaze didn’t move from his newspaper as a knock sounded from the door.

“.....Claudia, darling, can you get the door?”

The annoyingly high voice of Claudia Clarkson came from somewhere in the direction of the kitchen.

“I can’t, dearest, I’m feeding our little sweetums, who’s such a little angel, yes she is!” Her voice quickly devolved into babytalk as she tried to convince the couple’s daughter to eat, who was currently throwing quite the temper tantrum.

Frank grumbled and put down his newspaper on the table. He had to put quite the effort into getting up out of the chair, before he waddled over to the door and opened it. Frank was rather startled as he saw a women in a business suit standing on the front step, holding a clipboard in one hand while holding a 2-year-old child with her other arm, who appeared to be sound asleep. Her fairly bushy brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail at the base of her head.

“Wha?” he said, rather dumbly.

“Are you the husband of Claudia Clarkson?” the woman asked.

“Er-” He cleared his throat and gave the woman his best smile, “Why yes, I am. And I assure you, we’ve paid all of our taxes...”

The woman smiled, “I’m not here to threaten you into paying taxes, Mr. Clarkson. May I come in?”

“Of course, right this way.” Mr. Clarkson stepped to the side of the door, letting the woman walk in past him. He closed the door and led her to the sitting room.

“Your wife is here, I presume?”

“Yes, yes, just a moment.” He poked his head into the kitchen, “Claudia, there’s a woman here to see you.”

Mr. and Mrs. Clarkson came back into the sitting room, Frank taking an armchair while Claudia perched herself on the edge of the couch, holding her bawling daughter in her arms.

“Mr. and Mrs. Clarkson, my name is Mrs. Granger. I’m here because you two are the closest living relatives of Drake Wood.” 

Mrs. Clarkson stiffened, before letting out a nervous-sounding chuckle. 

“I-I’m sorry, I must have heard you incorrectly. You didn’t say ‘Wood’?”

“That is, in fact, what I said. This here,” she moved the arm holding the boy a little, “is Drake wood. His parents died in a car crash a little over a week ago, and their Will stated that they’d like his closest living relatives to take him in. Which happen to be you.” Mrs. Granger was starting to get slightly nervous, though she didn’t show it.

_These can’t possibly be the people they wanted to have Drake live with? They live on separate continents, even...._

“Of course! Right. We’d love to take Drack in.” stated Mrs. Clarkson.

“Drake.” Mrs. Granger corrected.

“Yes, yes, Drake.”

Mrs. Granger was silent for a moment before she cleared her throat.

“Right, well. His parents have set up a monthly sum that will be paid to you, so that you will be able to pay for supplies to take care of him. It rounds up to around £2,600 a month. Is that alright?”

Mrs. Clarkson quickly plastered a smile onto her face, trying not to seem too excited.

“Yes, that is absolutely perfect. Just lay him there on the couch, I’m sure you have plenty more things to do!”

“Well, I, I can stay for a few minutes, if you need...” Mrs. Granger hesitated.

“No, that’s quite alright! You just get going now goodbye!”

Mrs. Granger stared at the front door that had been closed behind her for a moment, brow furrowed as she thought about what to do.

_.....I’ll just get rejected if I ask to come in now....._

_I’ll come back in a month. Give them time to get settled with this new arrangement._

However, Mrs. Granger had gotten a new case the next day, and her mind was completely banished of any thoughts about the young boy who was a young wizard in the making. She never came to visit the next month or the month after, and the Clarksons didn’t contact her to do so. 

As far as the outside world was concerned, nothing had ever happened that fateful day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying it so far!  
> (even though i have no one reading this at the moment cough cough)  
> If there are any grammar or spelling mistakes, feel free to point them out in the comments. I'm going to try updating at least every two weeks, if not once a week. so be looking forward to that!  
> Characters will be added in the notes as they appear, not to worry. And I give a 100% guarantee that there will be characters from harry potter! If not you get your money back . :)
> 
> Edit 4/17/2020: The title is viable to change at any time. I am attempting to plan ahead and use an actual plotline, but I have no idea how well it will work.


	2. The Freak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mild abuse warning?  
> mild blood warning.

_ 9 Years Later.... _

Drake cried out as he was backhanded across the face hard enough to shove him into the counter. He groaned softly as his vision swam before his Uncle Frank grabbed him by the front of his shirt.

“Nngh-”

“IDIOT BOY! WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT USING YOUR FREAKISHNESS IN THIS HOUSE!”

The worn out toes of Drake’s trainers scrambled uselessly for purchase on the tile floor of the kitchen, his hands grabbing at his Uncle’s that was holding him just above the ground by his shirt.

“I-I’m sorry- agh-!”

He’d yelped again as he was thrown against the counter, the tip of a knife getting dragged down the length of his left forearm, which immediately started bleeding. Drake realized that his Uncle couldn’t be reasoned with at the moment and ducked under the hands that reached for him, dashing past his Uncle Frank and out of the kitchen before running up the stairs and into his hall closet, slamming the door shut and ‘locking’* it. 

He flinched as his Uncle started pounding on the door a moment later, pressing himself against the back wall of the closet until his Uncle Frank grew bored and left. Drake let out the breath he was holding, tugging the chain that was connected to the lightbulb at the top of the closet, turning the light on. He winced as he looked at his bleeding arm.

He opened the self-created secret compartment in the wall, taking out some bandages made from an old shirt, starting to wrap his arm, cringing as the wound started to actually hurt. 

Drake tied off the bandage and closed the secret compartment, then looked around the small half meter by half meter space he was in. He exhaled softly and ‘unlocked’ the door from his side, lowering himself into a sitting position. 

Drake stayed awake as long as he was able, but still fell asleep in the end.

~<&>~

Drake jerked awake to his Aunt Claudia knocking annoyedly on his closet door.

“Get up! Up! You should’ve started on breakfast over an hour ago!”

He heard the sound of the door being unlocked on the outside, then his Aunt’s footsteps going away from the door. Drake pushed open the door to his closet and stepped out, only for his injured, wrapped forearm to be immediately grabbed by his Cousin, Angel.

“What happened to your arm, Freak?”

Drake jerked away as he felt the wound forcibly reopen.

“Nnh- g-geroff-” He vainly pushed at the hand gripping his arm.

“Why didn’t you have mommy and daddy kiss it all better? Oh yeah, they’re dead!” Angel let out a high-pitched laugh that Drake thought was in the top five of ‘most annoying laughs in existence’. She released his arm and shoved him into the wall before bounding downstairs. He huffed, studying his arm then closing the closet and heading downstairs.

Drake started preparing a breakfast of fried eggs, buttered toast, baked beans, bacon, ham, tea, and coffee, along with a salad for his Aunt. 

“And you’d better not burn it,” His Aunt Claudia scowled, “ Because if you do, there’ll be hell to pay for!”

“Yes, Aunt Claudia.” Drake said almost tonelessly, used to what had become daily threat. However, he felt the bottom drop out of his stomach when his Uncle Frank’s gaze locked onto him, and Drake swallowed dryly. 

“I-I mean, of course Aunt Claudia. I w-wouldn’t dream of doing anything e-else.” He felt his ability to breath come rushing back as his Uncle looked away again with a grunt.

In return for cooking breakfast for everyone else, he was given a piece of dry toast and a small cup of water, then told to do his chores “Or else!!”. 

Drake escaped outside and started with the gardening, which was one of his favorite chores to do, though he was resigned to the fact that he was going to get sunburnt. He fell into the steady, mindless rhythm of weeding the garden and trimming the plants in it.

During this, Drake let himself pretend that his mother and father weren’t dead, and he was coming that day to save him and take him away from the Clarkson’s forever. His parents would apologize, and he would forgive them, and they’d take him with them to live at where he should’ve been all along. 

Or he’d fantasize about leaving, and being on the run with nothing but the clothes on his back, wandering the highlands like an american cowboy wandered the country. He wouldn’t have to rely on anyone anymore.

He wouldn’t have to worry about any of this; he’d be free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *there's a hook screwed into the wall opposite the door, which has a rope knotted to it, and the other end is tied into a loop. on the door, roughly straight across from the first hook, is another hook on the door.  
> he'll put the looped end of the rope onto that hook to 'lock' it, which effectively keeps the door closed.
> 
> this chapter is short, and i feel like it's a little choppy, but it's currently 1:37 in the morning and i can't bring myself to care at the moment.
> 
> however, the chapters will probably grow longer as i get more confident with my writing, and it'll smoothen out as i get some practice in writing chapters.
> 
> i also apologize for any improperly used british/scottish slang terms, which there are bound to be some at some point since i am neither british, or scottish, but american.


End file.
